The Last Ten Days, The Apocalypse Countdown

The crab pot

Chapter 6

Nick spent the entire next morning at the estate's dining table with his laptop open and his credit card practically on fire. Another hundred million dollars vanished into online orders. Canned goods by the pallet. Self heating meals by the thousand. Water purification tablets. Industrial first aid kits. Camping tents rated for arctic conditions. Military grade walkie talkies with a fifty mile range. Portable diesel generators. Cases of whiskey and vodka that would be worth more than gold bars when the liquor stores stopped existing. Cartons of cigarette alternatives that desperate survivors would trade their last can of food for.

By two in the afternoon, he finally closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

His phone buzzed. A message from Isabella.

"Supply list is DONE. Took me all night but I think I covered literally everything. From toilet paper to tactical body armor. Want me to send it over?"

Nick typed back with a tired grin. "Send it. And let me buy you dinner tonight. You've more than earned it."

Three dots appeared, then her reply. "Deal! There's a place near campus called Bella Mare. Best seafood in Bellport City. Their crab meat pot is legendary but they only make a hundred portions a day so we need to get there early."

"Pick you up at six."

He picked her up right on time. Isabella had changed out of her usual work clothes into a simple white blouse and dark jeans, her hair down for the first time since he had met her. She climbed into the Brabus with her portfolio bag still over her shoulder because apparently she never went anywhere without it.

They arrived at Bella Mare at six thirty. The line was already out the door.

"Told you we needed to come early," Isabella said as they joined the wait. "This place gets packed every night."

It took a full hour before they were seated at a corner table near the kitchen. The restaurant was warm and loud, packed wall to wall with college students, young professionals, and families. The smell of garlic butter and fresh bread filled the air.

"Order whatever you want," Nick told her. "My treat."

Isabella did not hold back. Grilled sea bass with lemon butter. Garlic shrimp over angel hair pasta. New England clam chowder. And the crown jewel: the crab meat pot.

The waiter set the steaming pot on the table with a proud little nod. "You got lucky tonight. That was our last portion. Number one hundred exactly."

The aroma rose from the pot like a wave, rich and sweet and buttery, and Isabella's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Nick reached for his fork.

"Excuse me."

A shadow fell across the table. Nick looked up.

A heavyset young woman in a tight pink cocktail dress stood over them with her arms crossed and her chin tilted up so high she was practically looking at the ceiling. Her makeup was thick, her nails were long and sharp, and her expression radiated the kind of entitlement that could only come from spending someone else's money for too long. Behind her hovered a nervous looking young man in an expensive navy blazer who clearly wished he was anywhere else.

"That crab pot." The woman pointed one manicured nail at the dish. "I need it. Hand it over."

Isabella blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." The woman, Gina Caputo, shifted her weight to one hip. "My boyfriend and I have been waiting all night for that dish, and frankly, it's wasted on a table like this. My boyfriend's father is the owner of DeLuca Fresh Meats. Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

Isabella's face tightened. She knew that name. DeLuca Fresh Meats was her brother Michael's biggest client. One wrong move here could cost Romano Construction a seven hundred million dollar relationship.

"I understand," Isabella said carefully. "But we did order it first, and it was the last portion, so maybe"

"I'll pay five times the price." Gina pulled a roll of cash from her clutch and dropped it on the table like she was tipping a valet. "There. Take it and order a salad or something. Honestly, peasants shouldn't be sitting at tables they can't afford in the first place."

Her eyes slid over to Nick, taking in his plain black t shirt and worn jeans with the kind of open disgust usually reserved for something stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

"And what exactly is this?" Gina gestured at Nick like he was a stain on the tablecloth. "Did you drag in a stray mutt from the parking lot? He looks like he picks his outfits out of a Goodwill dumpster. I've seen better dressed roaches crawling out of sewer drains."

Isabella's face went red. She opened her mouth, but Nick raised one hand to stop her.

"Waiter," Nick called, his voice perfectly calm and his expression completely unbothered. "Please serve the crab pot. We're ready to eat."

Gina's eyes bulged. "Did you just... did this filthy street rat just ignore me to my face?"

"I didn't ignore you," Nick looked up at her with the same flat, bored expression he might give a fly buzzing near his food. "I heard every word. I just don't care. You're a stranger throwing a tantrum over a pot of crab in a public restaurant. That's not intimidating. That's embarrassing."

Gina's entire face went scarlet. Her nostrils flared. Her fists clenched at her sides so hard her fake nails dug into her palms.

"You disgusting little worm," she hissed, her voice rising with every word. "You're going to regret this for the rest of your miserable life. My boyfriend will crush you like the insect you are. You're nothing. You're less than nothing. You're like those fat, ugly bugs that crawl under kitchen doors, and I will personally step on you until there's nothing left but a smear on the floor!"

Every single person in the restaurant was now staring. Forks were frozen halfway to mouths. Conversations had died mid sentence. A child at the next table was tugging on his mother's sleeve, asking why the lady was screaming.

Gina was shaking with rage, her chest heaving, her voice reaching a pitch that could shatter wine glasses.

"My boyfriend is coming right now! And when he gets here, you're done! You hear me? Done!"

Nick picked up his fork and took a bite of the crab.

It was, without question, the best crab he had ever tasted.

And that was exactly when Gina's boyfriend came rushing over from the bar, his face white as a sheet of paper.